


Four For You, Jane Foster

by lazaefair



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mean Girls Fusion, Crack, Gen, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 03:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14865929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazaefair/pseuds/lazaefair
Summary: Jane asks, “Who are the Asgardians?” right as the crowd shifts enough for her to see—“They’re literal royalty. If twenty-first-century monarchy had a magazine, they’d always be on the cover.” Valkyrie points. “That one’s Thor Odinson.”I mashed together Modern Royalty AU and Mean Girls AU. Sort of. Don't ask why.





	Four For You, Jane Foster

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the heirs](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/387734) by Rion. 



> Inspired entirely by this outstanding piece of artwork - [_the heirs_ by Rion](http://iron-rion.tumblr.com/post/172625530034/the-heirs)

“Wow. That’s...that’s some outfit on Thor,” Bruce says, interrupting Valkyrie’s impromptu lecture on the secret social taxonomy of all the super-rich and ultra-famous people mingling within her line of sight. 

“They’re _here?”_ Valkyrie twists around on the couch, whiskey sloshing precariously over white leather. Jane turns, too, but all she sees are the backs of a bunch of glittering celebrities.

“Of course the Asgardians are here,” Bruce says absently. It’s like they’ve all been hypnotized, eyes and bodies straining towards the same obscured spot in the obnoxious gold atrium. 

Jane asks, “Who are the Asgardians?” right as the crowd shifts enough for her to see—

“They’re literal royalty. If twenty-first-century monarchy had a magazine, they’d always be on the cover.” Valkyrie points. “That one’s Thor Odinson.”

Fascinated, Jane watches the tallest, blondest, most gorgeous man she’s ever fucking seen (wearing a _cape?_ ) push his way through the crowd, grab a champagne flute, chug it, throw it to the ground, and roar _“ANOTHER!”_ over the noise of ridiculously expensive crystal shattering all over marble. Somehow none of it gets on the cape.

“Thor is the dumbest manchild you will ever meet,” Valkyrie says in her ear. “Bruce met him at some shindig in New York last year.”

“The Chitauri Gala,” Bruce confirms. “He asked me how to spell cocaine. Right after he told me he could fly and shoot lightning out of his hands.”

“The little one is Loki Odinson,” Valkyrie says before Jane can process that. Loki pushes his way through after Thor, slender in a black-on-black tuxedo and ignoring everyone trying to get his attention in favor of scowling at his sleek black phone. “He just replaced King Odin as CEO of their private family corporation. Complete hostile takeover. He knows everyone’s business.”

Loki finally looks up when an older man in thick-rimmed glasses approaches him. Who then proceeds to greet Loki by taking his hand and kissing every knuckle. Jane squints. “Is that...Jeff Goldblum?”

“Yup,” Bruce says. He shrugs at Jane’s incredulous stare. “Like Val said, Loki knows everything about everyone. That’s why his hair is so shiny. It’s woven full of secrets.”

“Bruce, you’re a scientist, that’s not how hair works,” Jane says, but they’ve both moved on already. The crowd in the atrium ripples again, hands waving and phones flashing. First a bald man with tattoos on his head clears a path. And then - a woman appears, gliding forward on towering spiked heels. Long black hair, perfect cheekbones, haughty smile. Flawless eyeliner. Her evening gown is green as poison. 

Jane instantly feels wholly inadequate, genius grant or no genius grant. 

“And evil takes human form in Hela Odinsdottir,” Valkyrie says, quiet enough that Jane has to lean in to hear. Her voice has gone cool with venom, something different from the cheerful cattiness of the last half hour. Something older and altogether darker. Jane glances back and shivers at the look on the other woman’s face. 

Valkyrie meets Jane’s eyes and tips her head. “Don’t be fooled. She might seem like your typical selfish, backstabbing royal brat. But she’s really so much more than that.”

“They call her the Goddess of Death in Asgard,” Bruce says, eyebrows bunched together in a disapproving V. “The real power behind the throne. Those other two are just her little brothers.”

“Princess Hela,” Valkyrie muses. She flops back against the couch and gulps down the rest of her drink in one go. “How do I even begin to explain Princess Hela?”


End file.
